


At the Lake

by RebeccaDopplemeyer



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebeccaDopplemeyer/pseuds/RebeccaDopplemeyer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Katie’s prompt:  How about April surprising Ann in Michigan when she overhears her skyping with Leslie that Chris was going to be out of state as a temp city manager for a few weeks.  April misses Ann, Ann misses April, maybe a little angst, maybe even some sexy time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Lake

**Author's Note:**

> Set just before the flash-forward in S06 E22, “Moving Up.” Slight AU where Ann and Chris moved because Chris got a better job in Lansing, not because Ann got pregnant. Also, although the specific address is fake, East Lake in Moran, Michigan is a real place. I know this is long for a one-shot. I never thought I’d write Ann/April fluff, but here it is!

“Hey you.”

April looked up from her computer, looking for the voice that she never expected to miss. 

“Hey you!” Leslie’s cheerfully responded. Leslie was in her office, and then it all made sense: she was talking to Ann on Skype.

April sat down, a little uneasy at the sound of the disembodied voice. She pretended to read something on the computer while she eavesdropped on Leslie -- something she’d gotten really good at. Under the desk, she twirled her wedding ring absentmindedly. 

During the conversation Ann’s voice sounded curiously flat, and after a while Leslie began to pick up on it, too.

“How’s Chris? Is living together all you hoped and more?”

“Umm, you know, it’s an adjustment. Michigan isn’t Pawnee.” 

“That’s what I told you!”

“I know…”

“But really,” Leslie said, softening her tone. “How are things between you two?”

“We’re fine. You know, it’s the same with any couple…”

“Oh God,” Leslie sped up. “Do I need to talk to Chris? Do you need me? Or chocolate? _Notting Hill_? I can--”

“Leslie, it’s just -- it’s an adjustment. I thought…” The sound from Leslie’s computer went silent, and April stopped playing with her ring in her palm. “I thought it would be like coming home.”

April frowned, and in the pause, thought about what Ann needed: something to let feel her safe, and warm, and feel like she belonged.

“Oh Ann,” Leslie said. “You beautiful, ethnically-ambiguous homesick sunflower. I will send you the best care package from Pawnee. What’s your address?

April furtively grabbed a pen.

“Well, I won’t be here, actually. I’m going to our timeshare on East Lake.”

“Isn’t Chris…?”

“He’ll be in Lansing.”

“Oh, Ann…”

“It’s OK. I just, I need to get my head straight about some things.”

April frowned, mentally urging Leslie to ask her: what things? what’s really wrong?

But Leslie just said: “OK sweetie. What’s the address?”

“Hold on, it’s … OK, it’s 2 Maple Cove Road, Moran Michigan, 49760.”

While the address was still fresh in her mind, April jotted it down as fast as she could. She looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to what she was doing -- not that she would have had an explanation, if they asked.

When it was clear that no one had noticed, she put down her ring and with both hands typed the address into her phone. 

An eight hour drive. The route flashed onto the screen in yellow, like a bolt of lightning, guiding her through twists and turns to her destination. 

To Ann. 

* * *

April passed the Pawnee city limits, and exhaled in quiet relief She changed lanes to get onto the highway, the blue sky in front of her, and put her phone away and turned on the radio. April didn’t want to plan out her music -- not today. Sometimes, when the road stretched out before her, and the cares of her past weren’t so pressing, she could just let the world drift in, whatever it would be.

As she drove, she thought about seeing Ann’s face as she opened the door. Maybe Ann would have a feeling that it was April; or maybe she would just looked shocked, or laugh.

The last time she saw Ann was in the lot that became the Pawnee Commons, and she still missed the warmth from their hug. 

That hug. It was only a few seconds, but inside her it had stretched on and on. It had taken that much time for her to realize, all at once, how much she had missed. She had missed lunches and late night talks, and another woman to confide in -- someone who wasn’t a mother figure like Leslie, or detached like Donna. 

But as the road passed below her, that feeling of loss faded away; a good song came on the radio; and April realized that the sun had been warming arm, resting against the window.

After an hour she saw the buildings of downtown Indianapolis on the left, surrounded by green on each side and the pale brilliant blue of the sky above. April’s thumb tapped on the steering wheel to the beat on the radio. She liked driving alone like this, with no one to scrutinize her. 

She stopped in a small town outside of Fort Wayne, at a drive-in restaurant that served ostrich burgers and milkshakes. She stretches her legs by walking several blocks down main street, passing a hardware store and the post office, and stopping outside of a mural of settlers bringing in a harvest of yellow cobs of corn against an orange sunset. 

When she got back on the road for a while, the radio station changed from indie to gospel sermons, and back again after a while. With every flat, verdant farm that passed, she saw new signs. World’s Biggest Trampoline. Jesus Saves. Scenic Overlook. Buck Johnson’s All American Smokehouse and Steakery. Orchid Festival. She wondered what it would be like to live in those places. It would be a nice change from Pawnee. 

Eventually the farms turned into forests, and then she passed the “Entering Michigan” sign.

Her heart began to beat a little faster as she wondered what Ann would say to her. And she wondered what she’d say to Ann, to explain why she’s there. But when she thought of the way Ann’s voice sounded yesterday, she thought, against all reason, that Ann would know -- that she would just know.

She stopped to get gas outside of Lansing, and got a scone with her coffee. She sipped it on the hood of the car, watching the cars pass on the nearby highway, enjoying the pure independence of being able to stop and get coffee whenever she wanted, in any place her car would get her to. She noticed how the late afternoon looked in Michigan; here the clouds were pale shades of orange even before sunset. It looked so different from Pawnee. 

She drove along, passing town after town, and the signs gave her a tangible feeling of progress she didn’t know she was lacking.

Moran is in the upper penninsula of Michigan, and as soon as April entered Mackinaw she remembered that it would be the last city in the lower part of the state. She was driving on a road between two parks, and as the cars moved around her, the road became a bridge, extending so far that she couldn’t see the shore on the other side. The blue of Lake Michigan was so big that she thought it couldn’t fit in Indiana, or in all the places she’d ever seen in her life. The Grand Canyon, for all its scale, had a solidity that couldn’t match this; the water stretched on and on. It was a 10 minute drive across the bridge, linking the country she’d known with someplace new, and as it approached she could see miles in all directions -- long coast and thick forests, dotted with oaks and sycamores, yellow, orange, and brown against the blue of the water and the pale sky. 

It wasn’t long until she was off the highway, and onto a two-lane road. There were no towns out here; there were only occasional houses by the road, with green, rectangular lawns framed by trees red and yellow, matching the clouds as the evening sky became a deeper color of auburn. The radio slowly faded to static, and April turned it off, the only sound the noise of the car, a slight humming soundtrack with the scene passing before her. She turned off onto East Lake road, and the maple trees with red leaves began to close over the road, filtering warm light into the inside of the car. She thought about how Ann’s hair and freckles would look in this light, and suddenly she was aware of how close Ann was. The turn off was barely paved, with no houses, and she went on like that a minute or two before she saw the driveway. She checked her phone, the curving line of yellow stopping at her current location. 

The driveway was long, and it was a moment before she saw Ann’s car parked outside of the house. April swallowed, and turned off the ignition. 

* * *

April wandered around the outside of the small, simple house, full of wide windows that looked out onto the dense woods. As she turned the corner, a small sound escaped her mouth.

The woods had opened up to a path that led, winding this way and that, to the water in the distance. Everything was illuminated by warm light from the red leaves of the trees and the orange-streaked sky behind the setting sun. The lake stretched out, the end of the shore just visible against the sunlight reflected in the water, and small islands in the middle were slips of green in the blue of the water. 

She turned back to the house, taking in the porch, surrounded by wide wooden railing, a few steps up from where she was, with a chair and a wide porch swing covered in a blanket. There was a pitcher of iced tea on the railing, condensation pooling around its base. 

The screen door opened, and all of a sudden Ann was standing there, her head cocked slightly to the side, mouth barely open.

“April?” she said.

“Hey,” April said, giving a little wave with her hand, and then put it hesitatingly by her side. 

“I…” Ann just frowned, confused. “April, why are you here? How did you know I was here?”

“I dunno, I guess I overheard you talking to Leslie on Skype,” April shrugged.

Ann opened her mouth, but then shut it. “OK, but why… why are you here, April?”

“God, I wanted to come to upper Michigan, OK?” April hugged herself.

Ann flinched at April’s tone. “Sorry. It’s just surprising that… never mind.” Ann exhaled. She looked at April anew. “Hey.” 

April looked down at her feet, and back up again, briefly. 

Ann smiled, and walked down to April, and wrapped her arms around her. “Hey,” Ann said again, smiling. 

“Hey,” April said, relaxing against Ann, and for a moment, at the end of a long day of driving, rested her head on Ann’s shoulder.

* * * 

April woke up to orange light made by the sun behind the sycamore trees, filtering in through the window of the guest bedroom. After a shower and a fresh change of clothes, she wandered into the living room, finding it empty. She checked the kitchen and opened the front door, and saw Ann on the porch swing reading a book. She looked up.

“Hey. How’d you sleep?”

“OK I guess,” April said. 

“There’s coffee in the kitchen.”

April brought a mug onto the porch and sat in the chair, sipping her coffee while she watched the water of the lake in the distance. I was so quiet here, except the wind moving through the trees, though even that sounded far away. 

For a long time they stayed like that, not saying anything, Ann reading and taking breaks to look at the water while April sipped her coffee, and went in for another cup full. April stretched and yawned, even amidst the pleasant, warm feel of caffeine.

After a long time, Ann got up, and said she was going for a walk to the lake. April didn’t say anything, but she joined her anyway. They walked along the path toward the lake, the sunlight coming through the trees in patches of yellow and red, like a slow-moving kaleidoscope. 

They got to the lake and sat down on some large, flat rocks, warmed in the sun, and watched the water push against the grassy land, and back again. The lake was so large -- April could barely see to the other side, and in the middle there were large grassy islands with a speckling of trees. The sunlight sparkled on the water in a band of white stretching from the shore to the other side.

April looked at Ann, watching the soft breeze buffet her hair as she looked out on to the expanse of the lake.

“I like it here,” April said.

“I thought you hated nature?” Ann asked musingly.

“I dunno,” April shrugged, glancing at Ann before looking away. “This place seems alright.” 

They sat there for a long time before Ann asked April if she wanted to walk back to the cabin to make sandwiches for lunch. April nodded and they walked in comfortable silence back from the shore to the trees, and finally back home. When they got there, April set about to toasting the bread and cutting up avocado, while Ann got out the cheese and vegetables. 

Long after lunch, in the afternoon, Ann took a nap on the couch in the living room while April read in the overstuffed chair in the corner. After an hour or so, Ann stirred and stretched.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” April said.

“What time is it?”

“About four.”

“Oh,” Ann said, as if she expected it to be later. She laid there for a few minutes, looking up at the ceiling, waking up fully. She was started to say something, then stopped, and started again: “Do you think there’s such a thing as ‘The One’?”

April wondered what she had been thinking about, or dreaming about, that made her ask. But that wondering didn’t make her hesitate. 

“No,” April said.

“No?”

“No.”

Ann stayed silent for a moment.

“Yeah. OK,” she said. “I guess I just needed to hear it from someone else.” She smiled a little, sadly. 

After dinner they walked back to the lake to watch the sunset, falling low behind the trees on the other side of the lake, huge and golden. The sky was still bright with oranges and reds, but they wandered back to the porch. Ann poured them a glass of lemonade they had made for dinner. Ann sipped it from the hanging porch swing while April drank hers from the chair on the other side of the door. The ice made quick condensation on their glasses in the evening heat. April guessed that upper Michigan was only like this in the summer -- warm and habitable and pleasant, even after the sun set. 

In the evening calm they could just barely hear the slosh of water against the land at the lake, and listened to it as they watch the sky grow deeper shades of red. 

“Why did you ask that, earlier?” April said.

“Ask what?” 

“About ‘the one.’ I mean, do you think Chris--”

Ann cut her off. “Its not--,” she said, and stopped. She sighed. 

April played with the frayed sleeve of her shirt. “Why are you here, if Chris is in Lansing?”

“I wanted to come to upper Michigan, OK, April?” Ann said softly, engrossed in watching the oranges of the fading sun reflected off of the lake in the distance.

April couldn’t decide whether she should talk back or just shut down. But after a second, she realized she wasn’t going to do either. She looked at Ann, who must have sensed April’s eyes on her, because she met her gaze.

“I get that,” April said. “And I, umm,” April swallowed, “I’m glad you wanted to. Come to upper Michigan, I mean.”

For a second Ann just looked at April, wondering who this girl was, and why they hadn’t been better friends in Pawnee. 

“Me too,” Ann said.

* * * 

The next morning, April woke up in the guest room to the soft trills of birds outside. She pulled on her jeans, feeling a lump in the pocket. Her wedding ring. She fished it out of the pocket and started to put it on. She put her head down, listening to the sounds of Ann making coffee in the kitchen and a light breeze outside. She opened the drawer of the bedside table and reached out, hesitating, before putting the wedding ring in it. The metal hit the wooden bottom dully before rattling to stillness. 

April let go of a breath she didn’t know she was holding in, and went in to the kitchen. 

Ann was sitting at the counter, eating a bowl of granola in milk. April sat down next to Ann and poured milk into the bowl of dry granola Ann had set next to hers. “Hey,” April said.

“Hey. How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” April said, frowning as she realized that, for once, she wasn’t tired at all. “Really good, actually…”

Ann just smiled and went back to her granola. 

After a while they decided to go to the lake. As they set out, April asked, “Are you going to bring a book?”

Ann just shook her head as they walked. “No, I just thought I’d… think.”

April nodded, and flashed Ann a small smile of understanding. 

They came to a short grassy expanse as the trees thinned out, and April could look across the wide lake to the other side, seeing small houses in the distance. There were none on this side of the lake except for Ann’s, and April was glad that they probably wouldn’t run into anyone -- partly because she didn’t want to see anyone else, and partly because she didn’t want to share Ann with anyone. 

When they came to the shore, Ann took off her shoes, treading in the soft, sun-warmed grass before she sat down and dipped her feet in the cold lake. April followed her, and their feet looked pale and shimmered in the cool water. 

After a few minutes, April said softly, not taking her eyes off of the the sunlight-dappled water: “I kissed someone.”

Ann turned slowly, and although April wasn’t looking at her, she could tell that her eyes weren’t full of judgment or anger, but were understanding.

“It was at a party Tom threw. At the Snakehole, actually… There was this guy, and he was really into me. And he wasn’t gross or anything. But he made it obvious, you know? Andy was practicing with Mouserat, and I was there alone, and… I don’t know. Sometimes it’s just nice to feel like someone wants you. Someone other than who you’re with. Anyway, I kissed him. I didn’t even like it that much, not really. I think his name was Dave? Darrell? Ugh, I really hope I didn’t kiss someone named Darrell.”

April finally looked over at Ann, and shrugged. 

“April,” Ann started, “When we’re drunk, we--”

“I wasn’t drunk. I was at the Snakehole, but I didn’t drink anything. Dave, Darrell, whatever his name was, he wanted to buy me a drink. But I didn’t drink anything.”

“I just don’t want you to beat yourself up over one kiss.”

“I said we kissed. I didn’t say it was only one kiss.”

“Oh. Did you--?”

“No. We just kissed. But… more than once. And like I said, I didn’t even enjoy it that much, I just…” April looked away from Ann, staring at their feet in the water. She looked out to the lake. Past the islands, across to the shore. “Fuck,” she said softly.

Ann turned her gaze from April to the lake. “I know…” Ann started. “I know that you put up this front of not caring, and liking it when bad things happen, but… the thing is, I actually know you. And I know that you’re a good person.”

April frowned, but didn’t stop staring into the distance. “You actually think that?” she said.

“Yeah,” Ann said, and put her hand on April’s. 

They sat there for a long time, Ann’s hand on April’s. April was just able to enjoy the feeling of Ann’s hand on hers, as they watched the waves lap at the grassy beach. Now they could do this. They weren’t in Pawnee, and they didn’t have to think about the boxes they lived in there. For the first time, it was just them.

* * *

That evening April washed dishes while Ann dried them. “What are you reading?” April asked, gesturing with a soapy hand to the book on the counter Ann had been reading before dinner. 

“It’s a novel that Leslie recommended to me. It’s good so far. I’m reading more, or at least trying to read more.”

“Yeah?” April asked, handing a mug to Ann.

Ann shrugged. “Just trying to cultivate interests. Trying to be interested in… something, anyway.”

April didn’t push. “Umm, is there anything for dessert?”

“Oh--” Ann’s eyes lit up. “I almost forgot.” She set down the dish towel and stood on her tip toes to open the cabinet above the refrigerator. There in the back were chocolate covered oreos. Ann opened the box and handed some to April. 

“Chris doesn’t like it when I buy this stuff, so I hide it. His idea of dessert is adding extra raisins to his granola.”

April made a face, and happily downed the oreos.

Later, Ann laid on the porch swing while April sat in the chair, Ann reading her novel and April just listening to the crickets whose sounds filled the warm night air. 

Ann made a soft sound under her breath, and after a moment, closed her book, her thumb marking the page. She started to say something, frowned, and turned to April: 

“Do you think it’s wrong to flirt with other people if you’re married?”

April swallowed, worried that Ann was being too hard on herself. The thought made her anxious.

“I think,” April said, “I’m not the person you should be asking. You know, about what’s OK to do when you’re married.”

“I didn’t mean -- I’m sorry” Ann said. “This isn’t about what happened at the Snakehole with Darrell.”

“Can we call him Dave?”

“This isn’t about what happened with Dave.”

“OK. So, flirting...”

Ann watched April closely as she spoke, as if what she said right now was crucial.

April just trailed off, and laughed. Ann hadn’t heard her laugh before, and now it felt detached and self-deprecating. 

“I feel too guilty about too many things to feel bad about flirting. But if I really had to say, then, no, I don’t think its wrong. I think it’s OK.”

“You do?” Ann asked.

“Yeah. We should try to be happy.”

Ann just stared out past the trees to the white moonlight falling on the water. After a moment she looked at April, and thanked her with a small, intimate smile, before going back to her book.

After a while, April broke their comfortable silence. “Why did you say, earlier, you were trying to be interested in something?”

“I just mean I was trying to read more,” Ann said, biting her lip.

“I know, but I think… I think you meant more than that.”

Ann closed her book, still keeping her page. “I guess I feel like I’m… like I don’t always recognize myself in the mirror. I’m here in Michigan, away from Pawnee, in a new job, and I haven’t seen Leslie or anyone besides you in months. And every day I have to face the fact that I had to choose. I had to choose between my friends and Chris. And I hate that.” She paused. “I mean, it wasn’t completely like that. Chris didn’t put any pressure on me. He was only looking at jobs in Michigan because he knew I was from there and would maybe want to move back. I just… ugh,” Ann said, putting her head in her hands, “I feel like I’m saying this all wrong.” She shook her head. “ I want to like things, I want to like _people_. I don’t want to just be Chris’s wife.” She sighed. “I wish I had realized that when we got together.”

“I guess…” April said, “It’s better to realize that now than to realize it too late… after you’ve done something you can’t take back.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t go that way,” Ann said. “Sometimes you don’t realize you’re unhappy all at once. Sometimes it just builds. You feel it a little one day, and you try to dismiss it. And you feel it more, and you explain it away. But after a while it’s so much that you can’t deny it any more, and then you find all these ways that … that you’ve just drifted away,” Ann said, her words fading softly into the night air.

They sat there for a long time. 

“Is that why you’re here?” April asked, hesitatingly.

“For what?”

“A second chance. To get things straight.”

Ann thought for a long while. “I guess,” she said. “April,” she said, trying to deal with the thought of April’s guilt, “You will have a second chance, too.”

“I don’t know,” April said softly. She shrugged, trying to lighten the mood.

“I guess I don’t know either,” Ann said. “I just know that, right now… I want to be here. With you.”

And the feeling of April’s whole trip crystallized. April finally felt right -- here, now, with Ann.

* * *

One day they got up extra early and walked to the lake in the pre-dawn twilight. They sat at their usual spot, watching the water crowd against the shore and fall away, before they turned their gazes upwards, and watched the sky slowly lighten. The morning air was cold, and April pressed both palms around her mug of warm coffee, and let loose a shiver. Ann shuffled over, pressing her side into April’s. 

On the opposite shore, above the trees, the sun slowly rose, a foggy orange behind the scattered clouds in the distance. April turned her head slightly to watch Ann’s face cast in new light, looking upward, and after a few seconds of just looking, April laid her head on Ann’s shoulder. Ann pressed into her more. April set her mug down on the ground beside them, putting her free hand on Ann’s waist.

* * * 

“Hey,” Ann said, breaking the comfortable silence they shared as they watched the clouds pass slowly overhead. “Can I ask you a question?”

April stretched against the warm grass. “Anything,” she said.

“Why didn’t you like me in Pawnee?” she said.

“Oh,” April said, turning away from Ann, trying not to hurt just at the thought. She put her head down, unable to make eye contact with her. “I… I’m sorry--”

“No,” Ann said quietly, “I don’t want you to apologize. I just wanted to know.”

“I always said things to…” April swallowed, “to _hurt_ you. I did it because you seemed so, you know, perfect.”

Ann frowned.

“You had this perfect life,” April continued, “and Leslie thought you were this goddess, and I thought that if I said those things, then you wouldn’t think you were so perfect. And you wouldn’t be so perfect. And... And maybe Andy wouldn’t choose you over me.”

“April…” Ann said, shaking her head in wonderment, sitting up and turning to April. “I screw up so much… how on earth could you think I was perfect?”

April slowly sat up, turning to Ann reluctantly. She looked up, regarding her with watery eyes. “Huh?”

“Why did you think … that?” Ann said, moving closer to April. 

April looked at Ann’s eyes, and then noticed the way her freckles showed in the sunlight. She leaned forward till their noses were almost touching. “Just look at you,” she whispered.

Ann shook her head, and began to smile, as she realized that April really thought that. She brought April into a tight hug, and whispered in her ear: “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Ludgate.”

* * * 

The next day they explored their side of the woods, tracing the shore as it curved north. 

“Hey, look,” April said, interrupting Ann’s absorption in the ground beneath her feet.

Washed up on the cove, partially under a bush, was a small wooden boat, lichen covering the sides. They each took a side, and dragged it to even ground by the shore. There were two oars inside, almost buried under dead leaves. 

“You think it still floats?” April asked.

“I don’t know… it’s been here a long time, I think.” Ann shrugged: “Let’s see.”

They pushed the boat into the water, and watched it intently for a moment, but it didn’t take on any water. They looked at each other and smiled. 

“Let’s put it back on land,” Ann said. 

They walked a bit further, and found a quick-running stream that fed the lake, and decided to follow it. The woods opened up into a clearing, wide and bright, and the stream snaked this way and that. In one place it was narrow enough to jump over, and they both walked along that side of it, before finding another crossing and hopping back over.

The center of the clearing was by turns marshy and rocky, and Ann stumbled over a rock and almost lost her balance. April took her hand to steady her, holding her hand through the clearing. Then the streamside was back to flat grass, but April didn’t let go -- instead, she brought Ann in closer. Ann squeezed her hand, smiling as they felt the grass under their feet and the sun on their backs. 

* * *

After dinner they stayed on the porch, drinking iced tea as the last of the sunset faded and warm breezes blew in from the lake. The chair beside the door was empty; for the past few nights, they had both sat on the large porch swing. Tonight they both read books in their laps, though occasionally Ann would just watch the trees, listening to the steady croak of a frog and the faint sound of the lake in the dark. 

“April,” she said.

April stopped reading. Ann was looking out ahead of her, and as April traced her gaze, she saw what Ann was looking at.

“Oh,” April said, the noise soft as an exhale. 

“Wow,” Ann said quietly.

In front of them was a constellation of fireflies, curving points of soft yellow light against the shadow canvas of the forest. 

Ann leaned against the padded arm of the swing and gently pulled April back against her, wrapping her arms around April. April rested against Ann, unable to stop from letting out a contented sigh as she felt Ann envelop her in warmth. They watched the fireflies come and go. 

After a long while, April murmured, into the night: “Why don’t you come back to Pawnee?”

Ann smiled, but didn’t say anything for a moment, and instead began drawing small circles on April’s forearm with her thumb.

“Pawnee was… weird. But you know, I never felt lonely there.”

“You wouldn’t be lonely,” April whispered as they watched the long cycles of disappearing and reappearing yellow fill the night. “We could rent an apartment together.” 

Ann laughed quietly, thinking of what everyone would say if they found out they were roommates.

“And how would that work?” she asked, smiling.

April shrugged in her arms. “You know, we could do the shopping together. And even if the kitchen and the living room were small, we’d make them really nice, and there’d be plenty of space for the both of us. And when we got home from work we could watch DVDs on the couch… It would be just like this.”

“Mmm,” Ann said, nuzzling in closer to April. “I’d like that. Yeah,” she sighed. “I’d like that a lot.”

* * * 

One day, around noon, Ann got a package with a return address that said “Leslie Knope” on it. 

“Open it,” April urged as they sat down on the floor, wondering if Leslie had packed any donuts, which she’d been craving.

The box was stuffed full, barely able to contain everything Leslie had put in -- and no doubt it had been unable to contain a dozen things she intended to put in as well. She pulled out the new Parks Department Summer Catalogue, a long letter, the _Michigan_ album from Sufjan Stevens, and a (vacuum sealed) waffle from JJ’s. She found a novel which had what started as a simple handwritten note, “To Ann,” in the front flap, but ended up as a discussion of what she liked about the book and what character reminded her of Ann, and then the top ten reasons Ann should be the subject of a novel by a romantic intellectual who would use her as his muse. And at the bottom, forming the solid base of the package, was a wide, framed picture of them at some rally during the campaign -- Leslie hugging Ann impulsively while everyone else looked exhausted, but very happy. 

Ann put a hand to her mouth as she crumpled into hot tears, sobbing. 

It happened so quickly that April didn’t know what to say, and she put a hesitant hand on Ann’s shoulder.

Ann shuddered out a brief laugh. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” she said, wiping her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said.

April shook her head. “You don’t have to be sorry. Not with me,” she said, and with her other hand guided Ann closer and closer until Ann was completely in April’s lap. Ann rested her head in the crook of April’s neck, sniffling, as April rubbed her back slowly. “Just think about our apartment. We’ll get one right downtown so we can see Leslie and everyone else, whenever we want to.”

Ann smiled as new tears streaked down her face and onto April’s neck. “And we’ll make dinner together? Every night?”

“Well…” April said, stroking Ann’s hair, “sometimes I’ll take you to a nice restaurant.”

Ann laughed, wiping her nose. “I just…” Ann said, burrowing further into April’s embrace, wrapping her legs around April’s torso tightly, “I just miss everyone. And I miss who I was there.”

April just held her close, rubbing her back, and then stroking her hair. April had never been like this before -- had someone’s whole heart in her hands like this. “I really missed you when you left,” she said.

* * *

The next evening had both changed into their pajamas, Ann with her tank top and boxers, April with her shorts and an oversized t-shirt. At this point April usually said goodnight, and went into her own room, but she lingered outside of Ann’s room, picking flakes of nail polish off of her fingernails. 

Ann finished brushing her teeth, and looked up at April. “You OK?” she said, a little concerned. Most of the time April was fine, but sometimes she’d get this unfocused look in her eyes, and Ann could tell she wasn’t really there.

“Uh-huh,” April said, a little too quickly.

“April?”

“I--” April started, and swallowed nervously. “I was wondering if you would go to one of the islands in the middle of the lake with me. We could use the boat, and I’d, umm, make us lunch.” She quickly glanced down at her feet, and then back up at Ann.

Ann smiled. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

“I mean, we don’t have to go there, we could--” 

“I mean it, I want that.”

“OK,” April said, trying not to grin so widely. “It’s, umm, it’s a date,” she said, and quickly turned away, ducking her head as she went into her own room.

* * * 

The next day was just like all the others, except now April stayed closer to Ann. April poured her coffee, got her an extra blanket when she shivered on the porch swing. Ann wanted to help make lunch, but April refused, saying she wanted to do this for her. 

When April was almost done with making lunch, the sky darkened outside. “It looks like rain,” Ann said.

April bit her lip; the consternation must have shown on her face.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ann said reassuringly.

“I know,” April said, “I just want it to be perfect.”

“It will be, if you’re with me,” Ann said. April blushed furiously, turning away from Ann as if to finish making lunch. 

After a while sunlight flowed past the clouds and illuminated the forest floor again. They set out, the leaves crunching underfoot as April carried the backpack. They pushed the boat out together, and April rowed them slowly through the calm water, the sun warming them as Ann watched the forest behind them slowly shrink. They came upon the largest island, flat and verdant as the wind blew the long grass in waves. There were only a few scattered trees, and after they brought the boat ashore, they headed for the shade of the nearest one. April unpacked the iced tea she had made them, and then the sandwiches with homemade pesto. 

As they ate April caught Ann up on the gossip in Pawnee -- Tom’s new restaurant, how far Leslie was along in her pregnancy, how Ron was at babysitting. 

“What about Jerry?” Ann asked.

“Jerry?”

“Yeah.” Ann waited. “Jerry…?”

“Oh! Larry. God, so on this one day Larry got his identity stolen three different times…”

After they finished eating, April took Ann around the lake in the boat, and eventually they just drifted into the center of the lake, the coast small and distant on all sides, and talked about what they would look for in an apartment in Pawnee. 

After a few hours on the lake and more snacks, they came home, and as the night began to fall they stood outside of Ann’s room, while April rubbed her arms. 

“I should get to bed,” Ann said. 

April nodded.

“I had a really good time today. With you,” Ann said.

“Really?” April said. She had no reason to doubt it, but she wanted, more than anything, to hear that it was true.

“Yeah,” Ann said, smiling, a little wonderstruck by how April could surprise her.

“Me too,” April said. “Umm, goodnight,” she said, bit her lip, and after brief hesitation, reached out and kissed Ann on the cheek quickly, and swiftly closed her own door behind her. She rested the back of her head against the door, smiling. 

* * *

The next night, Ann wrapped her arms around April’s waist while she chopped vegetables, resting her head on April’s shoulder and neck. April pressed her back into Ann. After April finished what she was doing she slowly turned around. Ann didn’t let go, but just pulled her in closer, her forehead resting on April’s. April smiled and pulled Ann in for a long hug, rubbing her back as she slowly breathed in and out.

* * *

One night they couldn’t stop talking, reminiscing and laughing about memories of Pawnee. April stretched out, stomach down on Ann’s bed, her Neutral Milk Hotel shirt riding up on her waist as she lazily kicked her legs in the air. Only Ann’s bedside light was on, casting light warmly over the bed they both laid on.

April yawned. “I guess I should go to bed,” she said.

Ann blinked her tired eyes. “Mmm, me too” she said, and gently slid the covers over her, and then over April. “Is it OK if I turn the light off?” she asked sleepily.

“Yeah,” April whispered, and soon the room was only lit by a faint moonlight. In the dim glow she saw Ann’s hand reach out, and she felt Ann cup her face.

“Goodnight, April,” Ann said quietly, and leaned over and kissed April on the cheek, practically on the corner of her mouth. She lingered there for a moment, and April took in the full softness of Ann’s lips. Then Ann pulled away, laying her head on her own pillow. “Sleep well,” she said.

“You, too,” April said softly, and felt her eyes close with the full satisfaction of what had just become a perfect day.

* * * 

The next morning Ann awoke, slowly, to the press of April’s body spooning hers. Ann rubbed her eye with a clumsy hand. “Mmm, morning,” she said.

“Too early,” April muttered, pulling Ann in closer. 

Ann turned around in bed, April’s arms still around her. “If you let me go, I’ll make you breakfast,” Ann promised.

April’s eyes were still closed, but she just shook her head: “Nuh-uh.”

Ann smiled. “Well, I’m making breakfast for you anyway,” she said, and impulsively kissed April on the cheek. At the kiss April relented, letting Ann go.

* * *

When Ann returned to the bedroom she had omelets for both of them. April got up grudgingly, but was soon pacified by the omelet and snuggling into Ann’s side as she ate it. 

* * *

On their usual walk later that day, April stopped Ann under a maple tree to kiss her on the cheek to thank her for breakfast. Ann blushed, and took April’s hand for the rest of the walk.

* * *

In the evening they sat on the porch swing, listening to the crickets. Ann kept her arm firmly around April’s hip as they read. 

* * *

That night, April changed into her sleeping clothes in her own room, and then walked into Ann’s room while Ann was getting ready, and slipped under the covers. Ann slipped into bed with her book. “Goodnight,” she said to April, kissing her on one cheek, and then another, and then with the tiniest hesitation, a third time. 

“Goodnight,” April smiled, and fell asleep pressed tightly against her as Ann read her book.

* * *

“Mmmm,” Ann exhaled, still mostly asleep. The bed was so soft, and Ann felt pleasantly warm, barely registering the feeling of her legs wrapped around April’s. Ann stretched, lengthening her torso and her neck, and it was then that she realized that she had woken up because of April’s nose brushing against her jaw, and her soft lips kissing her neck, slowly.

She heard yet another needy, wanting sound, and realized through the haze of sleepiness that it was she who had made it. April’s lips moved lower, sucking languorously against the base of her neck where it connected to her collarbone.

April’s hands moved against her legs, moving from the knee up to her thighs, gently squeezing with each long kiss against her neck. 

Ann was too tired to understand what was going on. On instinct, she reached up and cupped April’s head in her hand, pressing her lips harder against her neck. April responded by not just kissing, but sucking, and Ann pressed into it with all the strength her tired body could muster.

Another moan filled her ears, and again Ann recognized it as hers. As she fought for consciousness and control, she realized that her other hand was already against April -- on her ass. She had the thought that she should remove her hand from April’s ass, and she thought she was trying, but every thought was being crowded out by the sensations of April kissing up her neck. 

“April,” she barely managed to get out, trying not to be overwhelmed by the feeling of April’s lips against her skin. 

April broke contact with her neck, and looked at her, bringing up a hand to stroke Ann’s face. As a reflex, Ann pushed into the caress. 

“What?” April said, her voice soft and curious.

“I…” Ann started, trying to form coherent thoughts while coming out of sleep and dealing with the overwhelming sensations of April’s body against hers.

April just smiled, and slowly, gently, brought Ann’s face closer, until their lips were nearly touching. 

“Good morning,” April said.

Ann slowly tore her eyes away from staring at April’s lips. “Umm… good morning?”

April smiled, and pulled herself away from Ann, who let out a disappointed sound as their thighs stopped touching. 

“What do you want for breakfast?” April asked nonchalantly, stretching, as if the way they had woken up was the most normal thing in the world.

“I… Umm…” Ann started, trying to shake off the intense sensations lingering on her skin. “We could… pancakes?” Ann finally mentioned to say, as she wondered how long it would be until she regained control of her senses. 

* * * 

April meandered from the house into the hot evening air, stretching before joining Ann on the porch swing and pressing her side against her while she read her book. Ann felt the quick warmth from that morning again, and watched as April made herself at home in what was nearly Ann’s lap. April absentmindedly rested her hand on Ann’s thigh while she read her book. 

After thinking about it for a few minutes, Ann reached out and tentatively stroked April’s neck while she read. April made an appreciative sound, but didn’t look up from her book. Ann wondered, thinking about this morning, how much April would let her touch her. Ann’s hand wandered down her back, rubbing it gently, as she watched the trees swaying back and forth from the breezes that came off the lake. April responded with an appreciative squeeze to Ann’s thigh. 

Ann moved her hand down to April’s hip, resting it there for a moment. April didn’t stop her, so she gently moved her fingers along April’s hipbone, stroking back and forth and feeling the contours of her body through April’s thin cotton skirt. 

“Mmm,” April mumbled as she read, pressing into Ann even more. After stroking April’s hip for a few minutes, Ann moved her hand over April’s leg, down past the hem of her skirt, to her bare thigh just above the knee. She brushed April’s thigh with her thumb, back and forth, her eyes almost closing at the feeling of her skin against April’s.

Ann thought about taking her hand off of April’s leg, and then felt April’s hand on hers, wondering if April was about to push her away, and re-establish the boundaries she was trying desperately not to think about. But April just guided Ann’s hand, gently, up under her skirt, onto her upper thigh, soft under her hand, and before she could react she was squeezing April’s leg. 

April removed her hand, closed her book, and leaned back into Ann, like she had done on the night of the fireflies. They stayed there, watching the forest reflect the red and yellow of the setting sun, while Ann gently squeezed April’s thigh.

April yawned. She turned to Ann, her mouth just inches from hers. “I’m sleepy… let’s go to bed,” she said, pressing a soft kiss to Ann’s cheek.

* * *

After Ann changed into her boxers and t-shirt she turned off the lights in the kitchen and living room. When she went back to the bedroom, April was sitting on the bed. Ann stopped in her tracks and couldn’t help but stare. April hadn’t changed into her usual overlarge t-shirt and shorts; instead, she was wearing only a white tank top, short enough to not come within an inch of her belly button, and a pair of white panties, riding low on her hips. 

“Can I brush my teeth in your bathroom?” April asked.

Ann just nodded, mouth slightly open.

April got up and walked slowly to the bathroom, and Ann was completely powerless to not notice how amazing her ass looked as she walked away. 

While April was in the bathroom, Ann got in bed, and tried not to think about how good April looked in that tank and those panties. When April returned, she stood at the edge of the bed and stretched, sighing, and as she arched her back Ann saw that the tank top was almost see-through.

Ann couldn’t help herself, and just stared. April didn’t seem to notice, and slipped in bed next to Ann, and smiled as she turned off the light. “Goodnight,” she said, and leaned down to kiss Ann on her cheek, the corners of their mouths just barely touching. Ann pressed into the kiss, trying but failing to retain some sense of control. April snuggled in close, hooking a bare leg over Ann’s thighs and resting her head on Ann’s shoulder and the pillow. Ann closed her eyes, tried to breathe regularly, hoping that she would be able to sleep with April so close and with so little fabric between their bodies.

* * *

In the middle of the night, in the darkness, the first thing Ann became conscious of as she began to wake was the impossibly delicious feeling of April’s hips on top of hers and the skin of her stomach against hers. April was kissing her again, right at the crook of her neck, in the spot she knew would make Ann moan. 

“Yes,” Ann breathed out. The word came before the thought. 

The little focus she could muster amongst the sleepy haze was all directed at her own neck, and the feeling of April’s lips pressed against it so hard she knew she was going to get a hickey. 

“April,” she moaned, and slid her hands up April’s back, underneath her tank, where her bra would have been if she had been wearing one. She knew she shouldn’t be enjoying something that felt this good.

“We should--” Ann started, before April’s tongue made brief contact with the sensitive hollow of her neck, “ _Ah_ \--” She caught her breath again. “We should… stop.”

April made a disappointed sound. “Right now?” she asked, the hint of a pout in her voice as her lips brushed against Ann’s collar bone. 

The feeling of the bare skin of April’s back, the press of their bodies together, was so perfect. “Maybe… in a couple more minutes,” she said.

April rewarded her by switching to the other side of her neck and sucking hard, pressing her whole body into Ann’s. 

“Oh God,” Ann said involuntarily. She slid a hand down from April’s back onto her ass, needing desperately the feeling of thin panties and bare skin. Ann couldn’t do anything but press her hips, clad only in the thinnest cotton boxers, harder against April’s. 

After squeezing April’s ass for a couple of minutes she managed to get a hold of herself. “OK,” she said, almost out of breath. “OK, we should stop.”

April just kissed her neck tenderly, and then slid off of her, Ann groaning immediately at the lack of contact, before April spooned her and wrapped an arm around her waist. 

“Go back to sleep” she said, kissing Ann’s shoulder from behind.

Ann was so overwhelmed that, after a minute in the dark, her exhaustion took over, and she fell deeply into sleep.

* * * 

At some point in the night after that -- Ann had no idea what time it was -- she started to wake up, almost automatically. She extricated herself from April’s limbs and sat with her legs off the bed for a second, trying to gain her bearings through the fog of sleep. She stood up, and in the darkness reached down to her boxers, her eyes still half-closed, and found the reason why she had woken up: the part of her boxers that pressed against her pussy was completely soaked.

“Oh,” she murmured groggily into the dark room. And more by feeling than by seeing she shed her boxers and felt along the floor to pull on the skirt she had been wearing earlier. She pulled it on a little crooked, but was too tired to fix it, and stumbled back into bed, wrapping a leg around April on instinct. The warmth of the bed enclosed her and the softness of April pressed against her. The last thing she did before she fell back asleep was to kiss April, partially on the cheek, partially on the mouth, and bury her head in the crook of April’s neck.

* * * 

Ann awoke again to a feeling of pure warmth, this time with the faint awareness that it was the very early morning. She felt her bare stomach against April’s and squeezed her legs together, getting immediate satisfaction from the feeling of April’s upper thigh in between hers. Her legs were wrapped tight around April, pressing April’s thigh up against her center, with no panties to get in the way of April’s thigh pushing against her labia.

April’s hands were massaging her back, and had found their way to her hips, where she gently pulled Ann down firmly onto her thigh. Ann tilted her head back, moaning at the sensations that were so hazy in her still-sleepy consciousness. She felt April gently bite down on her exposed neck, drawing out a slow “Mmmmm” from her as she rocked down onto April’s thigh. 

Now April’s hands were moving down to Ann’s thighs, and back up, under her skirt, both hands grabbing Ann’s sides, her thumbs swiping over her hipbones. Ann’s hips bucked up at the sensation, and April began to kiss and suck on her neck. 

“Harder,” Ann gasped, bringing a hand up to the back of April’s head, pressing her lips hard onto her neck, while she dragged her center up April’s thigh. It felt so unbelievably good it was almost all she could think of. Through the heady fog of pleasure she realized that her labia was sliding up and down April’s thigh so easily because she had soaked April’s skin with her pussy. 

Ann tried to lift herself off of April, only to find April’s hands, still on her hips underneath her skirt, holding her there tightly. “I’m sorry--” she managed to whimper out.

“Don’t,” April whispered, looking into Ann’s eyes, licking her lips. “It feels good.” 

“I--” Ann started as April pulled Ann’s hips down hard, pressing her clit against her leg. “ _Oh_ … I swear, I’m not usually…” Ann blushed. “I’ve just never been this wet,” she murmured.

April stroked her hair, still looking into her eyes, as Ann lifted her hips a little. “I missed you so much when you left,” she said softly. 

April kissed her cheek, and then kissed back down, pressing her soft lips against the sensitive hollow of Ann’s neck. 

Ann moaned out, increasing the pressure on her clit as as she rode April’s thigh harder. 

“I love holding your hand wherever we go,” April whispered, her hands moving to Ann’s ass, squeezing it and pressing her thigh up against Ann’s wet labia. 

“God, April,” Ann groaned, the pressure against her center becoming almost unbearable.

“I love it when you hold me in your arms,” April breathed out against Ann’s collar bone, sliding her thigh against Ann’s slick pussy.

Ann had never felt like this before; she had never so constantly on the edge of losing control, just from being pressed up against someone else.

“Our apartment in Pawnee,” April said, stopping to suck just beneath Ann’s jaw, “is going to be a one-bedroom.”

“Yes,” Ann whimpered, her body lost in the motion of rocking against April’s thigh.

“We’ll sleep in the same bed every night.”

“Mmm, yes,” Ann said, becoming overwhelmed by the pressure between her legs.

“And you’ll never wear panties to bed,” April moaned.

“Yes! April!” Ann cried, and pulled April from her neck, tilted her head, and kissed her flush on the lips, hungrily but gently, finally tasting April’s impossibly soft lips, consuming her mouth and kissing her again and again, alternating between sucking on April’s bottom lip and making out with their mouths open.

At the sensation of April’s lips on hers, Ann’s legs contracted, pulling April’s thigh hard against her center, and then, more suddenly and harder than she ever had before in her life, Ann came. 

She could only squeak out the weakest, neediest sounds through her open mouth, pressed against April’s cheek, her whole body vibrating. She kept rocking against April’s thigh and without warning her fading orgasm became another as she came again, suspending her in pleasure moment after moment as she lost any sense of time, and then with another movement of April’s thigh against her clit she was sent into yet another orgasm.

“Oh God, April,” she said, her whole body loosening as she rode out the orgasm, “ _Fuck_. April. That was… that was _so good_.” Ann shook her head, trying to comprehend how it was possible to come that hard. April had held her throughout each of the orgasms, kissing her and whispering into her ear how much she needed her.

Ann looked at April with an intensity she didn’t know she could feel. “April, I want to make you come. God, I _need_ to make you come.”

April nodded her head quickly, and Ann crushed their lips together in a passionate kiss, her tongue entering April’s mouth and sliding against April’s tongue. She broke the kiss, looking deep into April’s eyes, before sliding down to April’s hips. Ann grabbed April by the hips, another hand pushing her top up, exposing her stomach. Ann kissed her hipbones, lavishing attention on them, and then lower, the soft skin of her lower stomach, and until she was looking at the damp spot in April’s panties. 

“I want you so bad,” Ann said as she pressed her lips against the cotton of April’s panties, feeling with her mouth the outlines of her labia through the thin fabric. 

“Oh God,” April said, and her body responded automatically, lifting her hips up, the pressure against her pussy almost enough to push her over the edge.

Ann pulled back from April’s damp panties for a second, eliciting a moan of disappointment from April. Ann licked her lips. She slowly ran her finger along the side of April’s panties, April’s hips bucking up with the stroke. Ann’s mouth watered as she slipped a finger underneath her panties, and slowly pulled them to the side. April’s labia glistened, and the intoxicating scent of April filled her.

Ann couldn’t stop herself from pressing her whole mouth around April’s pussy, sucking everything her lips could touch as April’s taste enveloped her tongue. 

“Ann!” April said, and pressed her pussy against Ann’s mouth so hard that Ann’s tongue slipped inside of April, wet and impossibly hot. April tasted so amazing that all Ann wanted was to keep tasting her, that night and every night, knowing that she’d never have her fill. As she slid her tongue in deeper, April’s hand pulled Ann’s head hard against her pussy, and right then April contracted, coming around Ann’s tongue, allowing Ann to taste April more deeply than anyone ever had before, and to feel April come like no one ever had before.

April was still riding out her orgasm while Ann wrapped herself around April, and April nestled into her so tightly, whispering into Ann’s ear that she had wanted this for days. 

“I know, darling,” Ann said. “I know.” Ann pressed her body fully against April’s, holding her tightly. 

“That was…” April said, still recovering. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Ann kissed April on the lips, relishing their softness, amazed at the fact that she could feel that softness whenever she wanted. “Me too,” Ann said, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Mmmm,” April said, ready to fall back asleep.

“We’re going to stay here at the lake as long as you want. This place is just for us. But as soon as you want, you tell me, and we’ll look for an apartment.”

April smiled at the thought, as peace overcame her. “And we’ll make love every morning,” she whispered.

Ann stroked her hair, holding April in their warm bed. “Of course we will, darling. We’re never going to be apart again.”


End file.
